


The Company You Keep

by Amatia (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Amatia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, I know I don't know you and you're probably not what you seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Company You Keep

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Harry/Hermione story that isn't really Harry/Hermione at all. If anything, it's Ron/Hermione and some Hermione/Snape unresolved feelings. It's one of those kinds of stories that goes through several incarnations before deciding what shape it's actually going to take. I hope this shape works.
> 
> For Ruth.

1.

"You're awake," a voice says, and she turns her head. Snape is seated in a chair, half-hidden in the corner shadows. "You collapsed right after, we were worried."

For another few seconds she wonders why he's there and why Harry's asleep on the floor beside the bed, and exactly who's bed this is. Then the sun breaks through a slit in the heavy drapes and as it falls across her face, Hermione remembers.

The pain hits her stomach first and twists up around her spine; she leans over the side of the bed and vomits onto the floor narrowly missing Harry, who rolls away with a groan but doesn't really wake up. She doesn't see Snape rise and walk over because she's started crying. He wrings out a cloth in a bowl on the nightstand and reaches to wipe her face. She flinches, but she would flinch at anyone touching her right now. The water is cool and soothing, in stark contrast to the hot itch of tears. 

The mess on the floor disappears with a wave of his wand. Hermione turns over, away. "You should eat," she hears Snape say and she shakes her head and wraps her arms around her knees underneath the blankets.

"Where am I?"

"My rooms."

It was almost funny, Snape letting her and Harry sleep in his room. Hermione burrows deeper into the bed. 

2.

She's numb throughout the entire move. Dumbledore says that it's best she doesn't see her parents or Ron's parents. There are things she wants to tell them and she doesn't know if Ron had told Molly and Arthur yet. They needed to know.

"What did they do with him?" she asks Snape, standing with her back to the wall as Harry and Lupin move things into the flat that had been arranged for them. 

Snape hesitates before answering. "His parents took care of what was left."

Hermione shudders and wraps her arms around herself. She's starting to show and the heavy sweaters she's taken to wearing barely hide the bulge. "I need to talk to them."

"You can't, not yet."

"Are we going to be allowed to leave?"

"Harry is."

"But I can't."

"No."

"What about when it's time?"

"Madame Pomfrey will be on call as your time nears."

For a minute she'd been worried that Snape was going to be the one to deliver the baby. "I won't be going to the hospital?"

"You're a witch, Miss Granger, and St. Mungo's is only for magical injuries."

"Oh." Hermione tries not to think about this and instead watches Harry and Lupin shove the sofa into place against the wall. "Why not just use your wands?" she asks them, raising her voice to be heard.

Harry shrugs and clears his throat. "I suppose we didn't think of it." He sounds hoarse and tired. She's forgotten a dozen times this last week that she's not the only one hurting.

Snape gives his wand an irritable wave and everything in the room flies into a functional position. "Rearrange it later," he growls at Harry.

"Severus -" Lupin starts to say.

"Save it, Remus, there's an Order meeting and we can't stay with the newlyweds forever."

Hermione flinches at his choice of words, and Harry sees, but his choked gasp is covered by the roar of the fire taking Snape away. Lupin awkwardly hugs them both. "I'll see you in a few days," he says with a gentle smile, and follows Snape into the fireplace.

"Don't be angry," Hermione says to Harry.

"I'm not. I'm still getting used to it myself, you know?" He adjusts his glasses with nervous fingers. "I don't know what to expect, either."

Hermione nods. "Yeah."

It's an uncomfortable silence. She's never been uncomfortable with Harry - angry, yes, but never so uncomfortable that there's a churning in her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick," she mutters, and escapes to the bathroom.

  
3.

It's the being alone that starts to bother her. Harry's never gone long, if he leaves at all, but she's still so used to being surrounded by chattering, busy Hogwarts students, and first among them Ron. Having only Harry around after so many years of both him and Ron is strange, and it's only made worse by the marriage. She can feel the magic between them growing stronger; it's like a crackling in her fingertips when they're in the same room, but she knows it's all because of the spells and not because she and Harry are in love. 

  
4.

Snape always sits in the lone high-backed wooden chair when he visits; makes his own tea and generally ignores Hermione and whatever she's doing. She knows he's only there on Dumbledore's orders and ignores him in return. But one day in August he lays his book down across his knees and looks at her. "Hermione. What you and Potter are attempting is not a marriage," he says quietly. "It is Dumbledore hoping that the mistakes of the past will not be repeated."

Hermione knows it's true but resents it anyway. It's the same thing she hears from the voice of reason in her head. Not to mention twice a month from the man across from her. And Lupin had even murmured something into her ear about it last week. She glares at Snape nonetheless. "How would you know," she mutters, and turns back to the blanket she's knitting. 

"I was married once," he replies coolly. "While I was a Death Eater, before I came to teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione tries to picture Snape married to anyone and fails. It must show on her face because the corner of his mouth quirks and he says, "Did you think that none of the teachers were ever married?"

"I never thought about it." She pauses. "What was her name?"

"Helen." In such a low voice she can barely hear him.

"What happened?"

"Is it absolutely imperative that you be so nosy?" he snaps. Hermione doesn't budge. "She was murdered."

"Voldemort?"

Snape nods. "I... let him kill her as proof that I hadn't gone over to Dumbledore," he murmurs.

There's more to it than that, she figures, but Snape isn't being very forthcoming. It dawns on Hermione that _this_ is presumably why Dumbledore was always so insistent on trusting Snape. She shoves down the urge to embrace him in sympathy. "Tell me about her?" she asks, but he shakes his head.

"It was years ago," he says briskly. "It's in the past."

  
5. 

Later that night she curls up beside Harry on the sofa. "Thank you," she says and he gives her a quizzical look. "You gave up so much to take care of me and the baby."

Harry shakes his head. "I didn't give up anything."

"But a career, a family of your own -"

"You and Ron were always the closest I had to a real family," he says firmly. "And the people who don't think I'm some kind of legend think I'm kind of crazy, so I doubt I'd have much going for me career-wise."

"But -"

Harry puts a hand over her mouth and she chuckles. "Dumbledore believes in blood family," he says, a finger tapping her cheek, "but I believe family is what you make it."

"Doesn't mean I can't thank you for hanging around."

"You know it never crossed my mind to do anything but."

Of course it hadn't. "I know."

  
6.

Remus comes to dinner one night while Harry's away. "I haven't made anything," Hermione says with an apologetic sigh, heaving herself up out of the chair.

"No, no, sit back down," he replies. "Let me, my dear."

She curls back up with the blanket and watches through the open archway as he busies himself in the kitchen, rattling pots and pans and clinking all the plates together. "Remus," she calls to him after a few minutes. "Do you even have a clue where Harry is?"

He looks at her over his shoulder, wiping his hands on a towel. "No," he admits. "I half expected him to be here, you know. He really shouldn't be leaving you alone."

Hermione shrugs. "I'm getting used to it."

"Still."

"It's all right."

He raises an eyebrow in her direction. "Hermione," he says after a moment's silence, "how much did Dumbledore tell you about this prophecy?"

"I assume he told us everything but I only remember bits and pieces."

Remus' hands still on the knife and she can tell he's weighing whether or not to ask. "I can tell you if you want to know. I- I was the person who heard it made."

Hermione's entire life has been fueled by a thirst for knowledge. Anything she could learn, she wanted to. But right now the last thing she wants to know was the exact terms of this prophecy. As if by ignoring it she could undo it. As if by ignoring it, she could pretend it wasn't real and that this arranged marriage was nothing more than a nightmare that a pinch of Ron's fingers would soon wake her from. 

But it's not, and Hermione is left feeling guilty for even thinking she might hate Remus. 

  
7.

"Would you tell me more about your wife?" she asks Snape one night. Autumn has arrived full force, complete with rainstorms and the wind that's currently making the windows rattle. Harry is out with Lupin. Apparently Dumbledore has decided she's never to be left alone, so Snape had floo'ed in moments after Harry had said he was going out.

He looks up from his book. "That's not exactly polite time-passing conversation, Miss Granger."

"I would like to know," she says quietly, "but I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to talk about her."

Snape makes a noncommittal noise and goes back to his book. 

  
8.

She's tired of being cooped up in this flat, tired of Harry always near, tired of Lupin and Snape always popping in just to make sure neither of them have gone crazy yet. She picks fights with Harry nearly every day, threatening to leave at least twice a week but never having the courage to pack some of her things and go. 

One night she gets as far as reaching for her coat. Harry's standing near the fireplace, looking completely lost. "Please," he begs. "Don't leave, Hermione, please."

"Staying just because you want me to stay is not a good reason," she replies bitterly.

"Then what about the baby? What about the prophecy?"

"You know as well as I do that this prophecy might not even be about my child." She feels far too young to be using these words; too young to be using any of these words. "Dumbledore was wrong to make us do this," she continues. "He was wrong to even suggest this to us. He should have known better than to let us agree to anything like this while we were drowning in grief."

"You're still drowning in it," Harry hisses. 

She flinches at the words and snaps, "He wasn't yours like he was mine."

Harry takes a step backwards and seems to shrink; Hermione wants to apologize but doesn't. "Maybe he loved you," she says in a low voice, "but not only do I know he loved me, I have proof."

It's exactly the wrong thing to say and she knows it. "Fine," Harry breathes, "go ahead and leave. Go ahead and abandon this marriage."

"I'm not your wife!" she screams, and Harry staggers backwards this time as if her voice is a physical force. Hermione sucks in a ragged, choking breath and reaches for the ring on her finger. "I'm not your wife," she says again, "I quit."

She's gotten the ring halfway off her swollen finger when someone floos into the fireplace. "No, you foolish girl!" It's Snape. Hermione freezes in surprise.

"How - how did you know?" she hears Harry ask.

"Did you think Dumbledore would let you stupid children play house without supervision?" Snape spits. "There's more charms than you realize on those rings, Potter." He fixes his gaze on Hermione. "And as for you, Miss Granger, I suggest you have a nap."

  
9.

He's sitting beside the bed when she wakes. "Here," he says, handing her a mug of tea.

"Raspberry leaf," Hermione murmurs, sniffing it.

"It will help you to feel better." Snape watches her sip the hot liquid. "He loves you," he says quietly after awhile.

She draws a long shuddering breath. "It would be so much easier if he didn't."

"Would it?"

Hermione looks away. She knows he's right. 

  
10.

She wakes up one night in October to a freezing flat; the heat's gone out. Hermione wraps a blanket around her shoulders and shuffles, yawning, across the hall to Harry's room.

"Harry," she says, poking him with her finger. "Harry."

"Wassat?" Harry rolls over and opens one eye. "Herm? Is it the baby?"

"No. The bloody heat's gone out again."

Harry grimaces. "The landlady won't get to it until morning; did you want to climb in with me?"

Hermione uses his wand to light a fire in the small bedroom fireplace and then heaves herself into Harry's bed. It's higher off the ground than hers. "I feel as big as Molly's icebox," she grumbles.

"Your feet are about as cold," Harry replies, and she presses them against his bare leg out of spite. He laughs sleepily and tugs the covers up over them.

"Harry," she whispers, rubbing a slow hand over her belly.

"Hm?"

"Sometimes I can't remember what he looks like."

"Me neither."

She sighs and wiggles in the bed, trying to get comfortable. "We don't have any pictures."

Harry's quiet for a moment and then he slides out of the bed. She can hear him opening drawers. "I still have the clipping from the Daily Prophet when they went to Egypt," he says, digging. "Somewhere."

"It would help if you had some light," Hermione says dryly, and picks up his wand again. "Lumos."

"Thanks."

He finds it in the with a sheaf of old school papers in a bottom drawer and climbs across the bed to hand it to her. There's Ron, waving with the rest of the Weasleys, beaming out at them from a happier time. Hermione presses a hand against her mouth to try and stop herself from crying. "I miss him so much," she whispers. "He didn't even get the chance to really be alive, and they took him away from me."

Tonight is the first time she's mentioned Ron since they fought several weeks ago. Harry rubs her shoulder awkwardly. He's not that great at being comforting, she thinks. She looks up at him, sniffing. "What about you?"

"What about me?" he asks, puzzled.

"You can't possibly not feel stuck in this situation."

Harry shrugs. "Honestly, Hermione, I did what seemed right at the time."

Of course it had seemed right. She knew Dumbledore could talk Harry into worse, and with less words. "I still can't remember most of what happened."

"Be glad you can't." Harry's eyes are damp. "The Great Hall - it was horrible. You don't want to know."

Hermione bites at her lower lip and nods. "I just feel like it would be easier to say goodbye, you know, if I could just remember what the last thing he said to me was. He said something. I can't remember what it was."

"You could ask Snape."

"Snape?"

"He was right there. He shoved you out of the way right when Ron leapt in front of Bellatrix." Harry looks at her calmly. "You'd be dead, too, if he hadn't pushed you to the floor."

Hermione swallows hard. "I..."

Harry lays down and looks up at her. "The room's warmed up a bit, we should get some sleep."

"I guess." She knows she won't sleep. Harry sets the clipping on the bedside table and extinguishes his wand. They lay there awake, more than ghosts between them.

  
11. 

"There's something I need to ask you," Hermione says to Snape in a firm voice.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

She looks into his eyes and takes a deep breath. "What was the last thing Ron said before he died?"

"He said several," Snape replies calmly. "The curse didn't kill him right away."

"Tell me." Her hands clench tightly on the fabric of the couch; it rubs uncomfortably against the tips of her fingers but she can't stop.

"To you he said, ‘save yourself'. And then he jumped in front of Bellatrix Lestrange, who had been aiming at you. I knocked you down, out of the line of fire, and you lost consciousness." Snape recites this all in a cool, seemingly emotionless tone. " Mr. Weasley then looked at me and said ‘tell her I love her, and you take care of her'." 

He looks down at his cup of tea. It rattles in the saucer. She's moaning into her hand without realizing that there's sound coming from her mouth. "And then what?" she chokes out.

"He closed his eyes and sighed. And then he was gone."

"What- what did Molly and Arthur do with him?" No one has ever told her.

Snape shakes his head. "The curse he was hit with is old and Dark," he says quietly. "It turns a person to dust within minutes; there was nothing left to bury."

  
12.

Hermione wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping and struggling with the heavy blankets covering her. The bed is strangely wet and in her momentary disorientation she wonders why she's cramping like this. Then she sucks in a clear breath and it all lines up in her head, and she screams for Harry.

  
13.

"I see the trend of not remembering significant events in my life continues," is the first thing she says to Snape when she wakes up. 

"Madame Pomfrey made sure you couldn't feel most of it," he says delicately. "And before you ask, neither Potter nor myself was in the room for any of it."

Hermione chuckles but it turns into a groan. She looks down at her now-flat stomach. "I sure hurt now," she sighs. "And I feel as though I could sleep a whole week."

"Ah, but there's someone you should meet first," Snape replies as Madame Pomfrey comes into the room holding a blanket-wrapped bundle. 

"She's perfect," Madame Pomfrey sniffles, laying the bundle in Hermione's arms.

She has a patch of soft red fuzz that immediately gives her away as a Weasley and Hermione struggles not to cry as she looks down at her daughter. "Hi," she whispers. "Hi, sweetie. I'm your mum." 

The baby yawns and her tiny fingers clutch a fold in the blanket. Hermione blinks away tears. "Madame Pomfrey, will you excuse us for a minute?"

Snape gets up to go as well, but she stops him. "Stay, Professor. There's something I want to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Would you be... I mean, would you like to... Oh, hell. She needs a godfather, Professor, I'm hoping you'll say yes?"

"My dear Miss Granger," Snape says softly, "we have known each other outside of Hogwarts for a year now. You have just asked me to be godfather to your child. Don't you think it's time you called me Severus?"

She looks at him in silence for a moment. "I haven't been Miss Granger in more than a year."

"Mrs. Potter."

"Hermione." It sticks in her throat.

"Hermione." He pauses. "Very well, I accept."

Hermione lets out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You know what it entails?"

His eyes hold hers. "It's nothing I haven't been doing since I discovered you were pregnant."

"I... Thank you."

He nods. "So have you picked a name?"

Hermione looks back down at the sleeping baby. "Ada."

"That's lovely. But is it Ada Weasley, Granger, or Potter?"

"I don't know." She runs her fingers over the red fuzz. "Granger, I suppose. Yes. Granger."


End file.
